


I Am Rebel

by FancyTyper



Category: The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Angst, Dating, Drama, Dystopia, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fanfiction, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love Triangles, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Rebellion, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10806912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyTyper/pseuds/FancyTyper
Summary: It's been 80 years after the event of The Crown and Illea has a new ruler, the Valentinos. Under their reign the Castes have been brought back to distill the fighting between Illea's people. But with the Castes comes Rebels, Southern Rebels, who want to eliminate the Crown family once and for all. And they may just have a chance. Prince Nikolas Valentino's Selection is coming up and the Rebel's have a plan. Infiltrate the Selection using one of their own and plot to take down the Royals from the inside. Holland Evans is that one, chosen to compete in the Selection, Holland must gain the heart of the Prince. And the Throne.Can Holland fake her way through the Selection even as real feelings start to flood her heart? Find out in I Am Rebel.





	1. REBELS ARE NOT BORN, THEY ARE MADE

As the sun rose in the sky, flooding the small village in Sumner with warm light, Holland Evans rose from her bed. Well, cot really. The thick mattress had a white cover, gray cotton sheets, and a downy duvet. Yes, the duvet had a few lose threads and the mattress was practically falling apart and losing its stuffing—but it was comfortable. Holland stretched her arms above her head and shook the last of sleep from her head. She stood up from her bed and walked over to the small, dingy bathroom that was connected to her room. It had yellow tiled floors, a few were missing though, a sink that sometimes ran hot and sometimes ran cold, never both. A toilet that you had to flush by sticking your hand in the tank and pulling the chain. A shower that’s curtain was cut off at waist length. No windows and a cracked mirror above the sink. Holland pulled out a towel from the cabinet that was underneath the sink, the right door was falling off its hinges; and she was sure there was a spider crawling around somewhere.

She went over to the shower and started the tap; as she waited for the water to warm up she stripped off her sleep shirt.

Goosebumps spotted on her skin when she stepped into the warm water, she didn’t realize how cold she was till now. Wrapping her arms around herself, she let the water chase away the chill. Using a bar of soap, Holland scrubbed her tawny skin and subbed up her long, black hair. As she scrubbed her hair she thought about what she had to get done today.

_Drills in thirty; teaching self-defense at eleven; help Jordi with his reading, and meeting is at six._ _Gonna be a long day. . . ._

Holland opened her eyes, turned the shower off, and stepped out into the ice cold bathroom. After drying herself off with a towel, she brushed her teeth—they were running low on toothpaste—and went to her small dresser to look for clothes. She pulled on a pair of navy green, straight legged jeans; a black tank top; and her regular combat boots. She went back into the bathroom to brush her hair, letting the damp, springy curls fall against her shoulders. Putting it up in a ponytail, Holland made her way out of her room and went toward the front door.

She lived in a small shack, it was made of oak wood and was one story. The kitchen was small but usable, though the oven was acting up; and the sitting room had a semi-comfy couch to sit on and read. Yes, it was shabby and worn but to Holland it was the only home she’s ever known. A place of love and memories; a place she could always come back to no matter what. That’s what her mother had told when she was small. And she believed it.

“Holland!” A voice brought her out of her head and made her turn to see a figure jogging over to her.

“Hey, Jordi!” She grinned when the boy stopped in front of her.

“Are you going to Drills?” He asked.

 “Yeah, kind of an everyday thing, ya’ know?” She rolled her eyes good-naturally.

 “Wish I could go, but I got school.” He sighed and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets.

Holland chuckled and put an arm around the boy’s slim shoulders, at ten years old Jordi was on the thin side. Mostly it had to do with rations being low, the adults will have to go out and get more. Not that Holland was okay with them stealing from the local town, but no one would sell to Rebels. Especially Southern Rebels.

“You’d rather spend an hour working your butt into the ground than learn a few math problems?” She raised an eyebrow, even she’d take the math over doing one hundred sit ups.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, he rose up on his toes for emphases, “Wanna switch places?”

Holland shook her head but let a laugh escape her lips, “No can do, Jordi. You need to learn.” She started leading him in the direction of the school house.

They made their way out of the section of shacks and down the gravel path that would take them to where the school was. It’d been built near the woods and stretched a good feet across the grassy area. It could hold about eighty students, though classes were divided into groups of twenty. They clocked out at different times during the day and it worked well, the kids got an education. Holland had gone through the same thing, started school when she was six and graduated last December. Now she spent her time teaching kids to read and helping out with Missions—nothing physical, just organization and planning. She wasn’t much of a fighter but she knew if the time came she’d know how to save herself.

“Here we are.” Holland stopped in front of the school house, it was made of wood the color of stone and had a slanted roof. Kids flocked near the front yard, all waiting for their teacher to come and lead them inside. Holland spotted a few kids from her reading class by the big oak tree a few feet away.

“See you after?” Jordi asked, looking up at her with those deep brown eyes.

Holland smiled, “Of course. We’re starting a new book today.” She let her arm fall from his shoulders.

“Cool!” He hugged her around the waist.

Jordi let go of her and walked over to the kids near the oak tree, already laughing and looking happy. Holland’s lips lifted into a soft smile, she was glad Jordi had friends. When he isn’t around her or his friends he’s quiet and shy, not one for social conversation. But that was okay, he’d find his place and grow to be more social. Holland turned from the yard and walked back down the rocky path, the sounds of Jordi’s voice filling her ears all the while.

 

* * *

            

“Pick it up, Evans!” The Drill Leader, Zelena, barked as she stood behind Holland just as she was doing her second to last push up. Sweat poured down her face and her teeth gritted together as she pushed against the ground. Zelena always did this, shout at someone to make them go faster. Today, it was Holland.

“C’mon! C’mon! I want to see you move!” Zelena clapped her hands and walked to stand in front of Holland. The tips of her boots were shiny and the hem of her pants were tucked in neatly. “Give me one more!”

Holland let out a strangled breath and closed her eyes, she pushed off the ground with her hands and used the tips of her toes to keep her locked in place. She made sure her shoulders were squared and back straight.

“Good.” Zelena said, “Now, get up, Evans.”

With a sigh Holland let her body go limp and fell to the ground, she let out a ragged gasp and slowly stood on her wobbly legs. “Nice work, Evens.” The Drill Leader’s voice was friendly, Holland looked up to see the woman’s face set into a smile. It made her look less scary.

 “Thanks.” Holland panted, she wiped her hand across her damp brow and tried to steady her breathing.

“Now, join the others for a lap.” She gestured to the edge of the training field, where Holland saw the nineteen other teenagers jogging.

With a tired huff Holland did as her Leader told her to. Even though she’d rather lay on the ground and pass out. “C’mon, Holland, move that butt.” Tanisha Rollins, Holland’s best friend, advised as she jogged up beside her. Tanisha’s dark reddish-brown skin was slick with sweat and her braided brunette hair was pulled into a tight bun.

 “Kind of hard to do when I feel like I’m going to fall on it.” Holland huffed as she rounded a bend in the perimeter.

 “Well, don’t let Zelena hear that. She’ll make you do double laps.” Tanisha’s black eyes went over to rest on the Drill Leader. Holland glanced over and saw the woman screaming at a girl to jog faster, her peach colored face was red and her eyes bugged out. Holland pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the sight of Zelena.

 “She’s more pissed off than usual.” Holland said as they jogged passed a line of cherry trees.

“I know.” Tanisha nodded, “Wonder why.”

Holland shrugged and together she and Tanisha finished their lap around the field. Both were panting and bent over at the waist, sweat trailing down both their backs and foreheads. Holland knew Drills were mandatory but she wished they weren’t every day.

_Wish I’d taken Jordi up on his offer._

* * *

           

“Th—Th—the cat jumped over the . . . the . . . .” Wendy Adams’s eyebrows furrowed as her blue eyes focused on the book in her lap. Holland watched as the blonde tried to figure out the next word, her face was scrunched up in concentration and her finger was resting on the page.

“You can do it.” Holland murmured, she sat beside her on the faded purple rug in the school house. They were in the Reading Area—a medium sized nook where she taught her classes. It was a nice little space, comfy pillows to sit on and a fuzzy rug. A shelf was nailed to the wall and was crammed with books. Holland had organized them into sections based on reading level. The ten groups of eight kids Holland taught were all at different levels. The one she was teaching now was at level One—Orange—and after them was level Two—Purple.

“The cat jumped over the . . . . The cat jumped over the, ch—ch—ch—a—a—ir. Chair. ‘The car jumped over the chair.’” Wendy read with a grin, “I did it!” She looked up at Holland with shining eyes.

“You did! Great job, Wendy!” Holland beamed at the six year old.

Holland stood up from her spot on the rug and walked toward the last kid in her group. She was making her way around, wanting the kids to read out loud to her. When they did, she could see how far along they were on their own and check if they needed extra help. So far everyone was doing fantastic.

 “Hey, Connor.” Holland took a seat on a blue pillow beside the little boy.

Connor Jacobs was small for his age, he was seven but he looked five. With unruly copper hair and doe brown eyes, Connor could melt the heart of almost any person that crossed his path. “Hi, Miss. Holland!” He thrilled, his freckled face lighting up at the sight of her, “Wanna hear me read?”

“Go for it!” She grinned, she settled into her pillow and let Connor confidently read aloud the same thing she’d heard for the past hour.  

 

* * *

           

“Can I come to the meeting with you?” Jordi asked after his group let out. Kids were heading toward the school house door but Jordi hung back and helped Holland put away the books.

“Sorry, Jordi, but it’s just for Members.” Holland said as she closed her notebook and put it in her leather satchel.

Meetings were held by the Assembly every few weeks and they consisted of updates about the Illèan kingdom; Mission statements; Mission plans; Southern Rebels in other regions, and so on. Holland liked the Meetings, she thought it was interesting how it all came together; how information was gathered and plans were made. It was more her speed than fighting, that was for sure. The Assembly was made up of twelve members—the Head of the Assembly; the Vice Head; a Secretary; a Head of Combat, and eight other panel members. Members had to be seventeen to be considered and Holland had been one of them.

“But couldn’t you bring a guest?” Jordi asked now, his dark eyebrows raised coyly.    

Holland chuckled as she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, “Wish I could, buddy, but I can’t.”

“Maybe you could, though.” He gave her a pleading look as they walked toward the school’s front door.

“And how would I do that?”

“By asking your dad?”

“Jordi, just because he’s the Head doesn’t mean he’s above the rules. He wouldn’t let me bring you.” She put an arm around his shoulders and brought him in closer to her side.

“You’re part of the Assembly though.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a fact.

“Yes, but I had to work to be part of it. He’d never just give it to me because I’m his kid.” She said firmly.

“Maybe he’d let it slid though? I just wanna see what goes on during a Meeting.” He pleaded.

“I know and you will someday.” Holland opened the door and they stepped out into the late afternoon light. The sky was a rosy pink and Holland could hear birds chirping in the distance. She loved dusk. It was so quiet and peaceful.

“Whatever.” Jordi sighed and pouted as they walked down the path toward the section of houses Jordi lived in.

As they walked Holland looked down at Jordi, studying his face as subtly as she could. Her eyes went to his hair— black, shaved down at the sides and tousled at the crown. Then to his round, dark, brown face; long eyelashes, and small nose. He was like a little brother to her and the way he looked up to her made her heart melt.

“Hey.” She stopped in her tracks and turned him so he was facing her, his eyes meeting her green ones.

“I know you really want to go and I want you to go too, but somethings are just not meant for our eyes. This, sadly, is one for you.” She took hold of his shoulders and squeezed, “But you will get to go, when you’re my age. And I know you’ll love it.” She gave him a soft smile.

Jodi let out a sigh, “I know, you’re right, it just sucks. I don’t want to wait to be able to see it.”

“Hmm. How about I tell you about it after.” She said, giving him a mischievous smile.

 His eyes went wide and his lips tilted into a surprised grin, “What? No way, really?”

“Really.” She chuckled.

 “But you’re not supposed to tell anyone what you discussed in the Meeting.”

“I know, but you won’t tell will you?”

 “No, of course not!”

“Then there is no harm.”

“Awesome!” Jordi thrilled and threw his arms around her, she hugged him back tightly.

They soon picked up their pace again and finally made to Holland’s house, she opened the door and walked inside. Jordi went over to the sitting room and picked up his sketch pad that had been sitting on the coffee table. “I’ll be home at seven.” Holland said as she set her bag on the kitchen table, “What do you want for dinner?”

 “What do we have?” Jordi asked as he flipped through the pencil marked pages.

“Uh . . .” Holland went over to a cupboard and opened it, “We have potatoes, a box of pasta, and a loaf of bread.” She closed the door and turned around.

“Sounds good.”

 “Okay, I’ll see you later.” She walked out of the kitchen and toward the front door.

“Later.” Jordi said.

 But she didn’t leave, instead she turned to see Jordi scribbling in his book, eyes zeroed in on the page. “Hey, Jordi.” Her voice had gone soft, more serious than before.

 “What?” He looked up, pencil stilled in his hand, eyes on her face.

“He’s your dad too, ya’ know.”

It was silent for a moment, Holland could feel her hand tightening on the door knob. Had she said the wrong thing?

“I know.” Jordi’s voice was quiet but sweet. Holland smiled at him before turning toward the door, opening it, and walking out into the dusk-filled evening.        

 


	2. THE CHOSEN ONE

“Everyone, please have a seat.” Darius Evans deep voice commanded. The members of the Assembly took their seats at the mahogany table that was in the center of the room in the Meeting House. The Meeting House was just a one story shack, much like the School House.

“Do you know what this is about?” Tobi O’Neal whispered beside Holland.

“No, you?” She asked, her eyes going to his dark brown face.

“Like I’d know. _My_ dad isn’t the Head.” He rolled his deep brown eyes. Holland sighed but smirked at him before turning back to her father.

Darius was a tall man with broad shoulders, skin the same tone as hers but darker, black eyes, and a pointed nose. He was a kind man and a great father; also good at leading people. He was passionate for the Cause, as he put it, and had hope for a better future of Illèa and its people. Holland loved him very much.

“Thank you all for coming to this evenings Meeting.” Darius nodded at some the people in front of him, “We have information from the Southern Rebels in Kent. It appears that their plan to invade the Northern Rebels base in Hudson didn’t go so well. They were ambushed by the North and either killed or taken prisoner.”

The room went silent, everyone’s face in a mask of shock or blank. Holland knew the Northern and Southern Rebels hated each other, knew that each one was trying to overpower the other. Sometimes the North won and sometime the South won, but lately it’s been the North. Darius couldn’t figure out why though, he’d spoken with other Southern Leaders and they’ve thought it was the technology. The North was better equipped with the latest toys; why wouldn’t they be, way back they had been allies with the Royal Family. Holland wouldn’t be surprised if those ties still held, the North gets better equipment in exchange for wiping out the Southerners. Seemed plausible.

“Reports say that twenty-seven were killed and thirteen were taken prisoner. The rest managed to flee in time, but that doesn’t mean there still isn’t a target on their backs.” Darius explained somberly.

“Or ours.” Tobi said, “It’s what we’ve always known, the North is going to come down on us sooner or later. If we aren’t prepared we’re dead. Or worse.” His voice was firm and his gaze steady on Darius. Tobi was just as passionate about the Cause as Darius was, maybe even a little bit more. After all, his parents had been killed by Northern Rebels. This was personal for him, to anyone who lost a loved one at the hands of their enemy.

 “Don’t worry, Tobi,” Darius assured, “the Northerners won’t harm anyone here. I’ll make sure of that.”

“How?”

“By having a well stabled army, of course.” Zelena put in, she was the Head of Combat too.

 _Or we could just talk to them,_ Holland thought but didn’t say. She didn’t really see the point in battle; there had to be better ways to solve problems than allowing bloodshed. But if she said that then she’d be laughed at.

“And knowing when the North decides to come after us.” Darius added, “We’ll be prepared and ready to fight.”

“That’s all I ask.” Tobi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Now, onto the next,” Darius picked up a sheet of paper that had been sitting on the table, “Today was Prince Nikolas Valentino’s birthday.”

There was a chorus of scoffs throughout the room, no one was fond of the Crown Prince of Illèa. He was just one of the reasons behind their problems. His father, King Angelo Valentino, refused to demolish the Castes after being reinforced for so many years. There had been a time, before Holland had been born, when Illèa didn’t have any Castes. But instead of it being a good thing, it had been a bad thing; people were fighting and discriminating over past Caste ranks. No one could get certain jobs or go to school, all because of a number. So the current king at the time, King Albert Valentino—King Angelo’s father—put the Castes back.

And with the Castes came the Rebels, South first and North second. The North were brought to put an end to the South, but that hasn’t happened yet. Mostly because the South are more resilient than before. The South won’t give up until they get what they want: the Castes taken away and the King’s head on a platter.

“He’s turned twenty and tonight the King will be announcing the Prince’s Selection.” Darius said.

Holland rolled her eyes, if it’s one thing she hated it was the Selection. She found it stupid and bizarre to showcase people falling in love on live TV. What could be more embarrassing or uncomfortable than to have all of Illèa watch you have your first kiss? What was even odder was that people actually _volunteered_ to be a part of it, they’d go on TV and make fools of themselves in front of the Royal family. From what Holland had been told, people really went all out to gain the favor of the Prince or Princess. One girl had even given King Angelo a lap dance during his Selection, Holland had felt embarrassed just hearing it. She couldn’t have imagined how the King had felt. That said, Holland felt bad for all the poor girls who will be making idiots of themselves during this year’s Selection. She didn’t understand how these girls could be in love with someone they’ve never even met?

“And we care why?” asked Anita Weston from Holland’s left, her dark eyebrows raised.

Darius pressed his lips together, “We care because one of our own will be attending.” That shut Anita up, her eyes were wide and her full lips were parted. Holland agreed with her, what did her father mean by that?

“What does that mean?” Tobi asked, he leaned forward in his chair.

“It means that one of the girls here will compete in the Selection.”

Holland frowned, there weren’t girls in the Assembly that could compete in the Selection. A girl who was younger than twenty or older than fifteen could register. The oldest girl here was Anita, who was twenty-one, and the youngest was Holland, seventeen. But her dad wouldn’t—

“And that girl is Holland.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you kidding me, Dad?” Holland practically shouted once they were alone in the Council room. After her father had announced the shocking news—the Selection? Her? Really?—he had dismissed everyone and said they’d talk more tomorrow. Holland had stayed back and fumed silently, she couldn’t believe her father. He knew she would _never_ go for something like this.

“Holland, this was a decision me and Vice President Monroe made. I even got a few of the other Rebel Leader’s opinions. They think it’s a good plan.” Darius came over to stand beside her, his large hands landing on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have mentioned you if I thought you couldn’t do it.” His voice calm, knowing.

Holland rolled her eyes, “Why me? Why not some other girl from here or another Rebel base?” She shrugged off his hold and took a few steps back from him. She leaned against the table, waiting for answer.

“It could only be given to someone that was on the Assembly. And the girls that are part of other bases are either too old or not old enough.” He explained.

“Why couldn’t Anita do it?” Holland wondered.

Her dad let out a low chuckle, “Anita? In a gown, surrounded by other women?” His eyebrow was raised skeptically.

“She could handle it. Just make sure she isn’t near anything sharp.” Anita didn’t get along that well with other girls, especially upper Caste girl—Fours, Threes, and Twos. Anita thought they were all the same, stuck up; prissy; whiny; and stupid. The only girls she enjoyed being around were Holland and Tanisha.

“Holland, I know you can do this.” Darius said, his voice hopeful.

 “Why do I have to?” She asked.

Darius let out a deep breath and took a seat in a chair, Holland did the same, she sat across from him. “We think that the best way to get information from the palace is to have someone on the inside. A person that no one would suspect. Getting direct information has been difficult lately, the palace has stepped up their alert systems. And our equipment isn’t strong enough to get passed it, yet. So, we thought it be easier to have someone pass along information from them to us.

“Give us military documents; Northern Rebel Intel; Caste plans. Anything that could help us. The Selection is the perfect opportunity for us to do that, it’s inconspicuous and no one would think a Rebel would join the competition.” Darius’s voice was serious, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face.

Holland bit her lip, when she heard it, it did seem important. The last time any Rebel base had invaded the palace had been a year ago. And even then they’d only gotten into the first floor of the palace. They had come to raid the King’s office; word had let out that he was passing a bill that allowed citizens to rat out Rebels hiding in their provinces. They hadn’t gotten the bill and it’d been passed the next day. After that the palace had upgraded their security, the Rebels from Likely said they hadn’t been able to get passed the metal walls. They were bullet-proof and couldn’t be burned. Add to the fact that the Northern Rebels were running the Southern ones out of town, and they didn’t stand a chance at winning.

“Holland?” Her father’s voice brought her out of her head, “If you do this for us, it would mean . . . it would give us what we’ve been fighting for.” His voice was hard, his eyes burning with emotion.

Holland swallowed, she shifted in her chair, not sure what to say. Her father was right, if she did agree then they’d have a better and faster advantage of getting rid of the monarchy. Once and for all. After all, the Valentinos’ were the reason Holland’s mother was dead.

“If I did agree,” Holland started, “Aside from getting military and Northern information, what else is there?”

“Well, you could get close to the family. Nikolas, see what he has planned for his future reign. It’d help us, in the long run. Shows us what not to do when we take over.” Darius mused.

“So, I gain his trust and then use his secrets to our advantage?” It was devious, no doubt. Holland actually liked it.

“If that’s what it takes. Then yes.” Darius said. 

“Alright,” Holland stood from her seat, a smirk on her face, “I’m in.”

Darius stood from his chair and walked around the table to pull Holland into a hug, “Thank you, Holland. Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly.

“Anything for you, Dad.” Holland whispered.  _Anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! Tell me what you think in the comments below or leave a kudos!  
> xx


	3. REPORT

Tanisha busted out laughing, her head thrown back and eyes closed. She slapped her knee and snorted. Her laughs rang against the walls of her bedroom and made Holland roll her eyes. She’d just told Tanisha about her father’s plan, apparently Tanisha found it hilarious that Holland would be part of the Selection.

“Are you done?” Holland asked now, her tone annoyed. She was sitting beside her friend on the small cot. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t that funny.

“Y—y—yes!” Tanisha said, but her laughter only grew stronger. She made a hitching sound and waved her hand in front of her face, “S—sorry! It’s just . . . .” She took a deep breath and bit back another round of laughter, “ _You?_  In the Selection?”

“Why is that funny?” Holland questioned, though she had doubts too but she wasn’t going to let Tanisha know that.

“Uh, because, well, _look_ at you!” Tanisha gestured towards Holland, indicating her appearance.

“What’s wrong with how I look?” Holland’s tone was defensive. Holland thought of herself as pretty, to her standers anyway, it had taken some time but she’d grown to be comfortable with how she looked.

“Nothing!” Tanisha assured, her laughter gone, “It’s just, you’re not exactly princess material.”

“As if you know what that is?” Holland shot back.

Tanisha rolled her eyes, “What I mean is, is that you’re a Rebel. Always have been and always will be. Putting on a fancy dress and crown won’t change that.” Her tone was soft now, knowing.

Holland sighed, “Of course it won’t. And it’s not like I’m actually _competing_. I could care less about this whole thing; but my dad needs me to do this and I will. For him. For us. For the Cause.”

Her friend smiled and grabbed her hand, “And that’s good, Holly, but are you sure you really want to? I mean, who knows how long you’ll be gone? This isn’t some day Mission, these things can last for _months_.”

 “Of course I’m sure. I mean, I’d much rather eat glass, but I have to do it. And even if it does take me long it’ll be worth it.” She squeezed Tanisha’s hand, “It’ll help give us what we need to get our rights.”

“True.” Tanisha agreed, “But I’ll miss you.”

“Oh, no you won’t.” Holland rolled her eyes but a smile melted across her face, “You’ll forget about me the second I leave.”

 “Yeah, never mind. I’ll throw a party.” Tanisha added. Both girls giggled.

“So, when does this whole Mission start?” Tanisha asked after they had stopped laughing.

“Tonight.” Holland answered, “The King is announcing it and then we go from there.”

“Mm, guess that means we’ll have to do some forgery.”

“And lie.”

“And turn you into a princess.”

“Lord help us.” Holland teased.

  

* * *

 

 

It was just hitting 8:00 P.M when Holland took a seat on the couch back at her house. Jordi was beside her and her father was next to him. The small TV that was in front of them showed the Illèan emblem and played the national anthem. The emblem faded as the camera focused on the stage that was used for the weekly Reports. The Royal family sat in beautiful, red thrones; all looking regal and smart. King Angelo and Queen Demetria wore their crowns and Prince Nikolas wore his own; though it was smaller than his parents’. Holland let her eyes waver over the Prince’s face; she took in his finely comb honey blonde hair, it was parted and looked sleek and fine. His dark brown eyes were looking at something off camera. His posture was tall and strict. He looked every bit of how a prince should be. Holland hated it. Hated him.

 “Good evening, people of Illèa.” The voice of the Report’s host sounded through the speakers. Kyomi Amari’s face took up the screen, her smile bright and her black eyes stared back at Holland. She wore a red, floor length dress that had cap sleeves and small diamonds encrusting the bodice. “I hope you all had a wonderful day and are ready for tonight’s Report.” The camera panned out so Kyomi’s whole frame was shown. She stood in the center of the stage, the Royal family to her far left.

“First we are going to start off with the budget report for this quarter.” She spoke into the microphone, “Please welcome the head of the Economics’ Branch, Quinton Bass!”

A man dressed in a tailored, pin striped suite walked onto the stage. His graying hair was slicked back and he took confidence steps toward Kyomi. “Thank you, Kyomi.” Mr. Bass smiled as he took the microphone from the hostess. “Hello, everyone. This’ll be quick as I’m sure you’re eager to hear more important things tonight.” He gave a charming laugh and it was followed by the small audience in the room.

“The budget for this quarter was higher than we’d thought last time. Which is a good thing because we’ll need the extra money. The budget for last quarter had been above sixty million; thanks to gracious donations from you at our fundraising gala last December.  

“With that money we were able to supply weapons for our Northern allies; so thank you for supporting the Cause. Your donations will not go unseen.” The Cause being taking down Holland and her family. “Now, this quarter the budget is around eleven billion! Can you believe that?” He asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Applause came from the audience and the Royal family. Holland rolled her eyes.

“Further information on this quarter’s budget can be found in the economic section of the Illèan Observer this Sunday. So pick up a copy and support!” Quinton Bass gave a toothy grin to the camera and handed the microphone back to Kyomi.

“Thank you, Mr. Bass, for that enthusiastic report! I’m sure you’ve gotten everyone hyped up now.” She laughed and looked at the camera, “Now, onto our warfront.” Her happy look turned serious as she continued, “Please welcome our Head of Armed Forces, Camille Connors.”

A woman dressed in a military suite, dark blue blazar and pencil skirt, walked onto the stage. Her black hair was in a tight bun and her mouth was in a polite smile. “Thank you, Kyomi.” Camille said as she took the microphone in her deep brown hand, “Good evening citizens of Illèa. As you know Illèa has been at odds with it’s people. Strictly speaking it’s ones in the southern regions.

“Since the Castes have been reestablished, so have the Rebels. Most importantly, the Southern Rebels. They have risen up and picked up where they’d left off years ago. They want to destroy what we as people have built for this nation. They want to come into our homes and vandalize it. They want to take what is ours and call it theirs. They call themselves revolutionaries, but really, they are cowards. The Southern Rebels want to take the kingdom as their own. They have this delusion in their minds that they can run Illèa better than us. They are wrong.

“What they have now, violence; destruction; arrogance, will just be brought to the Throne. And our country will be sent back to a time where no one was free and no one was safe. Do you want that? Because I don’t.” Camille Connors gave the camera a grave look.

Holland felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, a chill running down her spine. But not from fear. From determination. She wanted to show this woman—and everyone else—that they were wrong. That they would be better than them, they would make Illèa a better home for it’s people. Without violence. Holland didn’t want the Royals dead, she just wanted them off the Throne.

“And thanks to your donations to the North, they have been able to eradicate most of the Southern Rebels. This week Southerners from Kent tried to take down a Northern Base stationed in Hudson. Lucky for us that didn’t happen; the North ambushed them and killed twenty-seven Rebels. And thirteen were taken prisoner. The rest fled. The thirteen prisoners will be held in Hudson’s prison and seen by myself and King Angelo this coming Wednesday. If these prisoners cooperate with us we could be taking out more bases all across Illèa.” Camille said firmly, her black eyes steely and strong.

Holland turned to her father, “They wouldn’t say anything, right?” She couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice.

“No, Holland, they won’t. They wouldn’t betray us.” He assured her. Holland looked back at the screen, the tough gaze of the woman making her stiffen.

The Head of the Armed Forces concluded her speech and Kyomi came back on camera. Holland noticed that she looked a bit pale and her eyes were wide.

“Thank you, Miss. Connors.” She stammered, her voice only half perky. She looked back at the camera, her smile lopsided, “Anyway, on to more . . . cheerful matters.” She gave a little giggle, “As all of you know it was Prince Nikolas’s birthday today!” She looked over at the Prince. “Happy birthday, your Highness!” She thrilled.

Prince Nikolas gave her a bashful smile and mouthed _thank you_.

“And with that comes a very special announcement! Everyone, please help me welcome to the floor, His Majesty, King Angelo Valentino!” Kyomi crowed and clapped along with the audience.

King Angelo made his way toward the center of the stage. He wore a gray suite that looked crisp and clean. His tie was deep red and shoes shined to perfection. His crown sat neatly on his dark head. His smile blazed and his handsome face took up the screen. “Thank you, Kyomi.” The King said as he was handed the microphone.

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” She answered as she curtsied.

King Angelo looked at the camera, his stance poised, “Hello, my fellow citizens. I hope you are all having a relaxing evening. Thank you all for your undying support during this difficult time. But enough talk of Rebels and fear; let’s move on to something more upbeat.

 “My son, Prince Nikolas’s, Selection!” He looked over at his son. Nikolas beamed a smile at the camera and his father.

“As you all know my son is next in line for the Throne, very exciting, I know.” Angelo nodded, “But what is a king without his queen?” His eyes drifted off camera, no doubt taking in his wife, “I’d never know.” His eyes went back to the front. “So, with that said, Nikolas will be starting his own Selection.”

Cheers could be heard from the audience and the king smiled, “As you know the Selection has been a platform for the prince or princess to find their spouse and the country’s next prince or princess. It has been very successful thus far and has produced very wonderful members of the Crown. I only hope the best for my son during his Selection. So, if there is any young woman out there who’d like to take a chance at wooing Nikolas into marriage; please fill out the form that was sent to you and drop it off at your local Province Office.” He explained with an excited grin. “I wish you all a good night and will be awaiting the Selection results along with you.” King Angelo bowed to the camera and handed the microphone back to Kyomi.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m sure you’ve gotten all the ladies of Illèa hyped up now.” Kyomi said, as she looked from the camera to the King. “You heard him, people, if you think you’d like to take a shot at the Prince then fill out that form and maybe you’ll get a chance at Royalty. I’m Kyomi Amari and I’ll see you all next week!” She blew a kiss to the camera and the screen faded into black.

Holland turned the TV off and glanced at her dad again, his eyes still on the screen, “How are we going to get one of those forms?”

Darius looked at her then, his expression calm, “Don’t worry about that, Holland. Just focus on what you’re going to put on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading my fic! It means a lot to me that you like it :) Your support is dear to my heart! Please leave a comment/kudos!  
> xxx


	4. ALIAS

“Wait, so you’re joining the Selection?” Jordi asked as he and Holland walked along the edge of the woods behind their house.

“Yes.” Holland nodded as she brought her hair into a ponytail. It was hot today, people were milling around in shorts and light fitted shirts; some even went off to swim in the lake a few miles from base.

“But you hate it. You always make fun of the girls who compete in it.” Jordi looked confused, his brown eyes looking up at her questioningly.

“I know,” Holland sighed, “but I just have to do it. It’ll help Dad and he’s counting on me to go through with it.”

“But you’ll be around the people who killed your mom.” Jordi countered.

Holland froze, her muscles tensing at the boy’s words. She swallowed thickly and took a shallow breath. Holland hadn’t thought of that—well she had but never out loud. She would be near the people who murdered her mother. The people who took away her Dad’s wife. The people who didn’t bat an eyelash when Cora Evan’s head was cut off.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to say that!” Jordi blurted, his hand on her forearm, “I know you don’t like to talk about her.”

Holland mentally shook herself, she looked down at Jordi, “No, it’s okay. You’re right, I will be near them. But that’s the point.” She took Jordi’s hand off her arm and held it in hers.

She pulled him along the path they’d been walking. “And it’s a good thing,” She continued, “the closer I am to them, the more information I’ll be getting.”

Jordi nodded slowly, “Okay, I guess that’s good.”

Holland nodded in agreement.

“But . . . you’re not gonna, like, kill anyone, right?”

“No!” Holland’s voice was loud, almost defensive, “No way, Jordi. I’d never do that!” Just the thought of drawing another person’s blood made her lightheaded. She didn’t have the stomach for violence. (Some Rebel she was).

“But what if Dad wanted you to?” He asked, “Or anyone else on the Assembly?”

“Then I’d guess I’d have too. But that won’t happen.” She answered, her voice calmer than before. Hopefully she really wouldn’t be asked by her father or anyone else to murder someone—especially a member of the Crown.

“Okay, but what if—”

“Hey!” Holland interrupted Jordi’s question, “How about we go have a swim?”

“What?”

“Let’s go to the lake and swim, get out of this heat. What do you say?” She made her voice bright and inviting. Anything to get him to stop talking about her killing people.

“Okay. Sure.” Jordi answered, his face beaming with excitement.

“Great.” She led him away from the path and toward the back of the house.

“But for the record,” Jordi told her as they walked into the house, “I know you only suggested this to stop me from asking questions.”

“Maybe; maybe not.” Holland said nonchalantly as she closed the back door. Jordi rolled his eyes at her before walking toward his bedroom. Holland just hoped he’d forget the questions for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, how’d you get these?” Holland asked as she pointed to the Selection forms that lay on the kitchen table. It was later in the day, Darius sat across from her at the table and Jordi was in the living room working in his sketch book. Dinner—noodles with butter and salt—was cooking on the stove.

“I had Will go into town and take one from someone’s mailbox when they weren’t home.” He explained, “All you have to do is fill it out and we’ll get it to the Palace.”

“How? It’s not like we can just walk in there and hand it to them.” She raised an eyebrow questioningly. They’d get shot at before they even made it to the gates surrounding the place.

 “One of us will go into the Palace, disguised as a Guard, put your form with the others and slip out. But we’ll need to be quick about it, the deadline to send this is in two weeks.” Darius picked up the pen that had been sitting next to the forms, “So, fill this out. Now.”

Holland took the pen from him and looked down at the papers; they looked fancy. Thick, cream colored pages, with the Royal insignia stamped at the top in red wax. The instructions were written in cursive and done neatly with swooping letters.

“What should I put for a name?” Holland asked, her pen hovering over the paper.

“Anyone you want, it’s your Mission.” Darius said, his eyes on her face.

Holland took a deep breath and put the tip of the pen to the form; she tried to pick the first name that popped into her head. It had to be one that the Royals would like; that would catch their attention as they flipped through forms. A name that would be stuck in their minds till the moment they met her.

 

 **Name:** _Raven Whitelace_

 

There, that was a name that would surly get the Prince’s attention.

“Good?” Holland showed the name to her father.

“Yes, I like it.” He answered, “Very . . . unique.” He gave her a small smile.

 “Only the best for the Royals.” She teased.

From there she made up more information about her new alias. She put that Raven Whitelace was seventeen years old and lived in Sumner. She was a Four who worked at her father’s restaurant as a waitress. Her skills included: cooking—though limited—self-defense; speaking Spanish, and organization. Holland had put down the skills she could actually do; no reason to have Raven do something Holland couldn’t.

“What about the address?” Holland asked, her eyes going from the form to her dad’s.

“Put down one-four-five Elmwood Road.” He said.

 “Does that house exist?”

“Of course, it’s for rent right now so we’ll use it when we need to.”

“What if someone comes to look at it?”

“We’ll be thorough, Holly.” He gave her a reassuring smile, “Finish up.” He gestured to the form.

Holland sighed and went back to answering the questions in front of her. When she was done her father had told her to bring it to the Providence Office first thing in the morning. He’d also said she would be getting her picture taken so she should be prepared. “So, I should look pretty?” Holland asked as she put the papers back in their envelope.

Darius chuckled, “Just look like you, Holly. So, yes, look pretty.” He pinched her chin and got up from the table. Holland rolled her eyes but a soft smile bloomed across her face.

“Jordi, dinner.” Darius said as he put the noodles into a large bowl and started adding butter and salt.

 Once they were all seated at the table, enjoying their meal, Holland pushed the Selection and the Mission to the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so please leave a comment and kudos! xx


	5. THE WORLD IS WATCHING

“Damn, look at all these suckers.” Tanisha whistled as her eyes went over the long line of girls in front of the Province Office. Girls of every shape, size, height and color were all waiting in the Sumner heat outside the office. All waiting to take a chance at getting into the Selection. All wanting to win that one in a million shot at royalty.

 _Idiots._ Holland thought as she and Tanisha joined the line.

“You sure about this?” Tanisha murmured as she looked at the girl in front of her. The girl had olive skin; rich, dark hair; and a slim frame. She wore a blue, strapless, sun dress and nude colored heels. She smelled of perfume that only a Two could afford.

“No, I’m not.” Holland sighed, “If the other girls from Illèa look like that,” She gestured in front of her, “then I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I don’t know, you look good. Not too pretty but not too average, ya’ know?” Tanisha looked over Holland’s clothes and hair. Holland had had Tanisha help her look the part of Raven Whitelace; pretty girl, not much of a makeup person, and wore Four-like clothes. She had on a white dress that had off-the-shoulder sleeves. The skirt flared out and stopped at her knees. Her makeup was light; pink, lip gloss; minimal mascara and a light blush. Her hair was in its natural curls.

“I just hope this works.” Holland murmured as they moved further in line.

“It will.” Tanisha assured, “Just look into the camera, smile, and think: ‘I’m the girl for you, Prince Nikolas!’”

 Holland smirked, “Sure, I’ll do that.”

Tanisha chuckled, “That’s the spirit.”

Time passed slowly as Holland waited; every girl getting more and more impatient as the line moved slowly upward. Girls were spit out from the office, each one smiling bigger than the last. Each one excited to be picked to compete for the Prince’s heart.

“I hope it’s me!” One girl exclaimed as she skipped out of the office.

“I’ve got this in the bag.” Another gloated, flipping her blonde hair as she walked by.

“I hope he doesn’t mind that I blinked.” Fretted a girl with glasses and pigtails.

Every girl voiced their excitement or worry as they left; the air was filled with charged hope and fear. While others waited they looked over their clothes or makeup and hair; making sure they looked their best. All wanting to be the one to make the Prince stop and stare. Holland was too nervous to pretend to check her lip gloss or fix her hair. Soon the girl in the sun dress was called into the office; Holland felt her heart pick up speed. Her hands became sweaty and she wiped them off on her dress. She was next.

“Just breathe.” Tanisha reminded, “You got this, okay.” She rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

 Holland nodded, “Y—yeah, I can do this.”

“Don’t be you, be Raven, how would she feel?”

Holland closed her eyes and thought about her friend’s words. How _would_ Raven feel in this moment?  _Nervous. But excited, too. She’d want to smile and she’d want that smile to reel the Prince in. Want it to make the Prince love her in that very instant._ Holland let out a breath and let her shoulders drop. She could do this. She could pretend.

“Whitelace, Raven!” A woman called from the door of the office.

Holland lifted her chin and stroked toward the woman; she smiled confidently as she was led into a small, cool room. She was told to hand in her form and take a seat in a chair that had a white backdrop behind it. A camera was in front of her the second she sat down and a man with an earring was telling her to smile. She looked into the camera, sat up straight, lifted her chin again and gave the man a big, charming smile. After a few clicks the man told her to leave so the next person could come in.

“How was it?” Tanisha asked as Holland joined her outside.

“Alright. Fast.” She answered as they walked away from the Province Office.

“And you smiled?”

“Like a maniac.”

“Perfect. The bigger the better.”

Holland snorted, “Let’s just hope the Prince thinks so.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed slowly; Holland would count down the days till the Report like a mantra. She couldn’t focus on anything else, her mind spinning with thoughts on the Selection. She would be distracted during Drills which would make Zelena scream at her to get her head out of the clouds. She had trouble paying attention to her students as they read to her. Meetings with the Assembly were drawn out and made her antsy. She wanted to know if the Prince picked her. The stress was weighing heavily on her day by day.

Now, the day of the Report, she was like a bomb just waiting to go off. She couldn’t focus on anything else but the Report. It would be on in six hours—six hours!—she didn’t think she could wait that long. Nothing could keep her attention, Drills were useless, all that exercise just made her think more. Her students helped a bit, but she still caught herself fretting as she listen to the kids’ read aloud. All she wanted was to be home, in front of the TV, watching the Prince read the names of the chosen girls. Holland groaned inwardly, was this how the other girls felt? Nervous and distracted, just waiting to know if they were picked. If so Holland hated it. She didn’t want to be like them, she didn’t care about the Prince or being the next Princess. All she cared about was getting the Mission started; taking down the monarchy and making Illèa better for everyone. She just hated that she had to wait to get it done.

 “Holland, calm down.” Jordi urged, putting a hand on her knee to keep in from bouncing.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just—”

“Nervous,” Tanisha said, she sat beside Jordi on the couch in their living room, “yeah, you’ve been like that for the past two weeks.”

“Well, I may go on an important Mission. Should I not be nervous?” Holland asked, her tone defensive.

“You are going, Holly.” Darius said beside her, “Everything will work out.”

“Yeah, so sit back and eat some popcorn.” Jordi commanded as he put the large bowl in Holland’s lap. Holland sighed and took a handful of popcorn, but even that didn’t help her nerves.

 Soon the Illèan emblem was on the TV screen and the anthem played loudly through the speakers. Kyomi Amari greeted the audience and flashed a dazzling smile. From there it was an update on Health Care, Economics, and employment ranks throughout Illèa. Holland just wanted to get to the Selection.

“Okay, now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” Kyomi thrilled, her pink lips spreading into a grin, “The results for the Selection!”

The audience clapped and whooped excitedly; apparently they were just as eager as Holland was.

 “Now Prince Nikolas will come down to the stage, pick a name from this bowl—” She gestured to a large, crystal bowl that sat on a tall dais in the middle of the stage, “—and read out the name of the selected girl. So, without further ado, Prince Nikolas come on down!” Kyomi sang.

Applause followed as the Prince made his way toward the stage, he gave the camera a charming smile and waved. (Holland rolled her eyes.) Prince Nikolas greeted Kyomi with a kiss on the cheek and a hug; she handed the microphone over to him with a giggle and walked off camera.

“Good evening, Illèa.” The Prince said into the camera, his lightly tanned skin flawless and his deep brown eyes bright. “I’m sure you’re all as excited as I am to see who the girls of the Selection will be. So, let’s fine out, shall we?” He turned toward the bowl and put his right hand in it.

Holland held her breath as the Prince pulled out a slim, folded piece of paper.

“The first girl selected is . . . Amberley Hall, Three, from Panama!” He exclaimed.

 Clapping followed just as Amberley Hall’s face took up the screen. She was a little pudgy, with a heart shaped face; green eyes; blonde wavy hair, and a sweet smile. Her peach-colored face glowed from the inside out.

The screen went back to the Prince’s face, “Beautiful, Amberley!” He picked another name from the bowl, “Next is . . . Crystal Altright, Two, from Angeles!” A girl with light bronze skin and a long, straight nose popped onto the screen.

After her it was Fionna Ross, Six, from Femley. Lola Ramirez, Four, from Dominica. Georgia Spencer, Five, from Sota. Noni Huvaki, Four, from Calgary. Every time a girl’s name was announced the audience applauded and cheered.

Holland felt her chest tighten as she watched the Prince pull out a name; what if it wasn’t her? What if the plan didn’t work? What then?

“Next we have . . . Raven Whitelace, Four, from Sumner!” Holland felt the air leave her lungs as her photo took up the TV screen.

“See, you had nothing to worry about.” Darius told her as he patted her shoulder.

Holland nodded, not sure what to say. All she could do was watch the Prince’s face as the camera went back to him. He smiled politely, charmingly. His eyes bright and . . . excited. Holland felt her lip turning up into a humorous smile; _fooling him will be easy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter everyone! Thank you so much for reading :) If you don't mind please leave a comment/kudos!  
> xxx


	6. I AM RAVEN

 

            The next week was filled with preparations for the Selection, Holland missed Drills and her reading classes had been done by another girl. Holland was told to do nothing that didn’t involve the Selection. So, she had to practice what she would say to the Advisor who would be scheduled at the ‘house,’ in a matter of days.

            Her father had then moved himself, Holland, and Jordi into the empty home he’d found last week. They had made it look like they’d been living in it for years. Darius had taken down the _For Rent_ sign and hid it in the garage. Hopefully no one would notice that it would be gone for a few days.

            On Tuesday, a knock sounded from the house’s wide, oak door. Holland and Darius walked over from the living room and stood in front of it. Through the panned-glass Holland could see the blurred outline of a man’s body.

            “Hello!” The man greeted with a wide grin, his eyes wide and hair big, “You must be the Whitelaces’?” He stuck out a hand, showcasing polished, clean nails, “I’m Greggor Hawkins, lovely to meet you.” He clasped Darius’s hand.

            “Likewise.” Darius smiled and pulled his hand away to gesture toward Holland, “This is my daughter, Raven,” Holland smiled politely, “And I’m Maxwell, please come in.”

            Darius led Greggor into the home and toward the kitchen—it was much larger than theirs at the Base. Darius told Greggor to sit and asked if he’d like something to drink.

            “Water is fine, Maxwell.” Greggor said as he took a seat at the marble table and began pulling out papers from a file he’d had in his bag.

            Holland took a seat across from him, from there she could see Jordi to her right. He was in the living room, reading a book, but Holland knew he’d be listening in soon.

            After Darius took a seat beside Holland, Greggor began his instructions.

            “So, Raven you are familiar with the Selection, yes?” He asked as he clicked a gold pen in his hand.

            “Yes, I am.” Holland answered, she tried to make her voice polite, but excited, “I’ve seen some old tapes of the King’s and it just looks so exciting! I can’t wait to begin!” She clasped her hands together and smiled.

            Greggor chuckled, “Yes, well the Selection is a wonderful opportunity for you. You’ll get to experience things you’d never thought you would.” His eyes bounced around the house, “Though, for a Four you’re very well off.” He smirked as if it were a joke.

            Darius and Holland gave him cool chuckles, even though the comment made Holland want to roll her eyes.

            “Anyway, I’m just going to ask you a few questions and all you have to do is answer them. Easy, right?” He asked as he flipped to a different page in front of him.

            “Ask away.” Holland nodded.

            “Fair warning, some of these questions may be a little . . . privy, so if you want your father to leave . . . .” He trailed off, his eyes going bashfully to Darius.

            “Oh,” Darius said, his eyes going wide, “yes, I can leave if you’d like, Ho—” He caught himself, “—honey.”

            “Uh, no, it’s fine. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Holland said, though she couldn’t help but wish both men would leave.

            “Okay,” He cleared his throat and sat straighter in his chair, “continue.”

            “Right, uh . . . . Raven, when did you first start menstruating?” Greggor asked.

            Holland felt the blood drain from her face. She could feel her father freeze next to her.

            What kind of question was that?

            “This is just for medical!” Greggor assured, “No one will see this but the doctors, I promise, Raven.”

            Holland swallowed, “Right, right, sorry.” Her eyes went over to the living room, Jordi was gone, thank goodness. “Uh, twelve.”

            “And the last time you menstruated?”

            “Um, two weeks ago.”

            “And your blood type?”

            “It’s ‘A’ positive.”

            “Okay,” Greggor pulled out another form, “this one is for the doctors but also to check if you are obeying the laws.” He slid the paper over to her.

            Holland looked down at it, the form was asking if she was a virgin or if she is or has ever been pregnant.

            It was against the law to have sex before a person was married, the penalty if one was caught was jail time. Or a whipping, depending on the Province or police officer. But if a woman or girl was pregnant, then sometimes the women would be put in jail till the baby was born. After that, the baby would be taken by the orphanage or the father’s family would take them. Most children got the first one, others the latter. And some didn’t even get either.

            The mother would then be kept in jail till she got out or sometimes, if the woman was in a lower Caste, she’d be killed. Just because the law could do it.

            Holland’s mother had been killed.

            Holland took the pen and hovered over the check-box beside the question on her virginity. A part of her wanted to check ‘no’ just to spit them; but she knew that would ruin everything.

            She checked ‘yes’ on her virginity and checked ‘no’ on ever being pregnant. She pushed the form back to Greggor.

            “Thank you.” He said and tucked the paper away.

            “Anything else?” She asked, her voice flatter than before.

            “No, no, all done. Just a few notes before I leave though.” He ignored her tone and closed the file, “Now, you will be leaving for Angeles on Thursday. In the morning  guards and I will help see you off for the airport. You won’t need to pack anything unless you’d like. Wear whatever you’d like as well, just as long as it’s appropriate. And you’ll then be on a privet jet to your new home.” He gave her a smile and stood.

            Holland and Darius followed and led him to the front door, “Thank you, Greggor.” Holland said as she opened the door for him, “I can’t wait to get started.”

            “You’re welcome, Raven.” He kissed her cheek and smiled, “You’re in for the ride of your life!”

            _You have no idea_.

 

 

            Wednesday came and went and soon it was Thursday morning. Holland got up, showered, dressed, and had breakfast with her father and Jordi.

            The meal was quiet, Holland was too nervous to do anything but nibble on her toast. Darius looked calm and Jordi looked tired—he slept in till ten on his days off from school—and a little sad.

            Holland felt her stomach stir, she didn’t want Jordi to be sad that she was leaving. But she knew it’d be inevitable to assume he’d be happy. Holland reached out a hand and placed on Jordi’s knee. He looked up from his half eaten egg to see her smiling at him. He gave a small one back and Holland squeezed his knee before letting go.

            “It’ll be okay,” Holland said as Darius got up from the table, “I promise.”

            Jordi sighed, pushing his plate back he murmured, “I know. I trust you. It’s . . . . I’m going to miss you, Holly.” He looked up at her with misty eyes.

            Holland got up from her chair and pulled Jordi into her arms, rocking them lightly, “I’m going to miss you too, Jordi. Every day. But I’ll write you and call you and it’ll be like I’m here with you.”

            “But what if this whole thing doesn’t work? What if it ends badly?”

            “It won’t. You said you trusted me, so do just that.” She kissed the top of his head, “When this is all over, everything will be better. Promise.”

            “Okay, if you say so.” He nodded.

            Holland chuckled before letting him go and picking up her plate to take it to the sink.

            A knock on the front door had her freezing on the way to the sink, her heart picked up pace. Her eyes went to the clock above the stove, 8:30 A.M.

            It was time for her to leave.

            Darius went over to the door and opened it with a cheerful ‘hello.’ Holland set her plate in the sink and walked into the entryway to see her father shaking Greggor’s hand.

            “Are we set?” Greggor asked as he pulled his hand away from Darius’s.

            “Yes,” Darius answered, “Come here, Raven,” He gestured for Holland to step forward.

            “Hello, Greggor.” She greeted with a smile, “How are you this morning?”

            “I’m good, dear, and you?”

            “Nervous.”

            Greggor gave a warm laugh, taking her hands in his, “No need to be, Raven. All you need to do today is get on a plane.”

            Holland gave a sheepish smile before looking at the two guards behind Greggor. They were dressed in crisp uniforms, dark blue with gold trimming. Silver badges had their names etched into them. Their shoes were shinny and tied neatly; everything about them screamed perfection.

            “Hello,” Holland greeted, “you must be the guards, yes?”

            One smiled at her, it brightened his face, “Yes, miss. I am Officer Ford.”

            “And I’m Officer Rainer.” The second guard said, his face open yet serious.

            “I’m Raven, it’s nice to meet you.” Holland nodded.

            “So, are you ready to go?” Greggor asked, pulling her attention back to him.

            “I—I think so, yes.” She swallowed, she could feel her palms start to sweat. She dropped her hands from Greggor’s and wiped them on her pants.

            “Don’t worry, Raven, you’ll be great.” He assured her with a wink.

            Holland hoped he was right.

 

            _I’m going to throw up,_ Holland thought as her eyes took in the large crowd of people outside the Province Hall. The whole town of Sumner was here and cheering for Raven Whitelace. Posters were fluttering in the light breeze and people were jumping up and down.

            “Come on, Raven.” Darius led Holland, who was gripping Jordi and Tanisha’s hands, onto the path that led to the Hall.

            Holland walked between Jordi and Tanisha, trying to shut out the people’s shouts of joy when they saw her. The path was the perimeter of the mass crowd; they were so close that Holland could stretch out her arm and touch someone.

            “We love you, Raven!” A group of girls shouted, they held a sign with a heart on it.

            “Future Queen of Illèa!” A handful of people shouted.

            “Just ignore them.” Tanisha said into her ear.

            Holland nodded and focused on stepping onto the small stage in front of the Hall. The Mayor was there along with a camera crew.

            Holland froze, she knew there’d be cameras, yet when she saw the small red light she felt faint. Her eyes could only see that light and nothing else.

            Was this live? Was everyone in the country seeing her _right now_?

            Her stomach twisted.

            “C’mon.” Tanisha pulled on Holland’s hand so she’d be standing near the Mayor.

            Tanisha and Jordi dropped Holland’s hands and walked over to stand near Darius, who stood at the side of the stage.

            Holland swallowed, her eyes went from the camera to the crowd in front of her. Their screams and shouts filled her ears and their faces blurred together.

            The warm, summer heat pushed down on her and she felt sweat drip down her back.

            The Mayor spoke into a microphone in his hand, his voice booming across the stage, “Hello, people of Sumner!”

            The crowd cheered louder.

            “Today is a very special day for us, as we are seeing off a Daughter of Illèa! Miss Raven Whitelace!” The Mayor took hold of Holland’s shoulder and jerked her to him. She stumbled as she stood beside him.

            “RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!” The crowd cheered crazily.

            “Yes, Raven is going to be competing in the Selection. And let’s hope she’ll make it to the end!”

            Holland tried to smile but she was too aware of the cameras, the chanting crowd, _everything_. It was too loud, too hectic; she wasn’t used to being in the spotlight. She was a Rebel, rebels didn’t get spotlights, they got shadows.

            “Raven, anything you’d like to say?” The Mayor asked, his smile wide and charming.

            Holland opened her mouth just as the microphone was pushed into her face, “Uh . . . .” her voice echoed in the air, “H—Hi?”

            The crowd laughed and screamed her name with vigor; apparently they thought her stage fright was endearing.

            Holland was then led off the stage and toward a car that was parked a few feet away. Greggor told her to say her goodbyes and then they’d be heading to the airport.

            “Good luck, honey,” Darius said as he wrapped her into a tight hug, “you can do this. I know you can.”

            “If you say so.” She murmured against his shoulder.

            “I know so.” He kissed her forehead, “I love you, Holly.” He whispered in her ear.

            “Love you too.” She sniffed, stepping back to be enveloped by Tanisha.

            “Drills are going to suck without you.” Tanisha teased, her voice thick with tears, “Seriously, get back as soon as you can.”

            Holland giggled, “I will.”

            “Tell me all about Prince-y when you get home.” She kissed Holland’s cheek, “And if you can, smuggle out some jewels.”

            Holland laughed, “I’ll try.”

            Tanisha let her go and Holland went to Jordi, who was crying just as Holland pulled him into a hug.

            “I’m gonna miss you.” He whimpered.

            Holland kissed his head and held him tightly, “It’ll be okay, Jordi. Like I said at breakfast, trust me.”

            “Can’t I come with you?” He asked, looking up at her with big, brown eyes.

            Holland smiled softly, “No, Kid, sadly you can’t.” She smoothed his eyebrows, “Unless you have a crush on the Prince.”

            A small smile turned up his mouth, “No, I don’t.”

            “Dang, was hoping you could take over for me.”

            Jordi giggled and Holland pulled him closer to her, “I’ll write you as soon as I get there.”

            Jordi nodded and stepped back from Holland. She smiled and turned toward the car when a voice made her stop.

            “Raven!” Tobi pushed passed the camera crew and stopped in front of her, “Wait up!”

            “Tobi.” Holland smiled, she didn’t think he’d come. They were friends but not that close. More like work buddies.

            “I got something for you.” Tobi held out a small bag, his eyes looked around the crowd, making sure people wouldn’t hear him. He leaned in so he could whisper in Holland’s ear, “Inside is a phone so you can communicate with us. It’ll keep things more discreet. Can’t trust them not to read the letters or tap into their own phone lines.”

            Holland nodded, “Okay, thank you, Tobi.” She took the bag from him.

            “You’re welcome. Good luck.” He hugged her quickly and went to stand beside Darius.

            Holland was soon put into the car, where she waved good-bye to her family and, in a way, herself.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Holland is off to the palace to begin her Mission, we'll get to meet the royal family and see what goes on! Please leave a review/kudos if you liked it :) xx


	7. AND SO IT BEGINS

She had never been inside an airport before, she didn’t realize how busy everything was. She’d seen photos from discarded magazines, everything looking clean and airbrushed. Floors white as marble; windows reaching up to the ceiling, filtering in sunlight. People in suits and looking like they’d just came from a meeting about finances.

            The photos didn’t do the actual thing justice; everything was clean and people wore suits. But it was also loud, voices bubbling up and over one another; babies crying; amplified voices calling out different flight numbers.

            All the while Holland sat in chair that was plushy and dark red; her bag at her feet and Officers’ Ford and Rainer a few feet beside her. Greggor had told her two more girls were coming and then they’d leave. He’d gone off to make sure the privet jet— _privet jet_ —was secure for them.

            That had been twenty minutes ago; Holland wondered if Greggor had left without them. Or had gotten lost in the airport; seems likely considering the place was so big and crowded.

            “How are you doing, Lady Raven?” Officer Ford asked from her right.

            Holland looked to see the young man smiling politely at her, his green eyes hovering over her face. She noticed that his smile was a bit crooked and his smooth-downed brown hair had a bit of a wave to it.

            “I’m alright. You?” She asked, shifting in her seat to face him fully.

            “Good. A bit bored, but I’ll survive.” He joked.

            Holland smiled, “I know. Wonder if we’ll ever leave before sunset.”

            Ford chuckled, “Let’s hope not. It’d cost me my position if you girls aren’t at the Palace before dinner.”

            Holland hummed, “Don’t want that.”

            The sound of heels clicking across the floor had her turning forward; a group was walking in her direction. Two girls and four guards, Greggor right beside them.

            “Raven!” Greggor said, spreading his arms as if making an announcement, “Please meet your fellow competitors.”

            Holland stood up just as the two girls came to a stop in front of her, both girls looked friendly enough.

            “Raven Whitelace this is Camila Young. She’s a Seven and from Midston.” He explained.

            Camila Young looked to be about Holland’s age; she had long, thick, black hair; light bronze skin, and round, black eyes.

            “It’s nice to meet you, Raven.” Camila said, her voice sweet and polite.

            “You too, Camila.” Holland nodded, returning the girl’s smile.

            “And this is Veronica Steele. She’s also a Seven and from Paloma.”

            “Hello.” Veronica said, her voice quiet, shy.

            Her skin was pale, a rosy tint to her cheeks; her auburn hair was tied back into a bun; her blue eyes soft and kind. Pink lips turned up into a small smile.

            “Hi, nice to meet you, Veronica.” Holland said.

            “Alright, ladies, let’s go.” Greggor said and ushered them away from the waiting area.

            Holland and the other girls didn’t say much as they were led onto the privet jet. Holland was a little nervous to say much; she kept thinking about what was to come. She was actually doing this. Infiltrating the Royal Family; stealing from them and lying to the whole country of her intentions. Lying to them about who she really was.

            _It’s for the Cause,_ She told herself as she took a seat in one of the jet’s chairs, _this is important. No one but me can do this._

            As the jet took off Holland leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes; imagining what would happen when she set foot into the Palace.   
  
  
  


 

            When the jet touched down at the Angeles airport Holland and the other girls were ushered out of their seats and guided into a white, hallow tunnel.

            “Just smile and relax.” Greggor said to them as they reached the end of the tunnel, a door in front of them.

            “What?” Holland asked, confused by the man’s odd look.

            No one answered her, instead Officer Ford opened the door and gestured for Greggor to go first. Then another Officer and another.

            “Go ahead, ladies.” Ford motioned for Holland to move forward.

            “What’s happening?” She whispered, stopping in front of him.

            “No need to worry, Miss, just a few cameras and fans.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

            A streak of worry filled her, she gritted her teeth—she hadn’t been expecting the cameras so soon.

            Taking a deep breath, Holland straightened her back, raised her chin, and went out the tunnel.

            Flashes filled her eyes and she heard bulbs pop too close to her ears. Shouts whirled around her and screams of joy hit her.

            “RAVEN WHITELACE!” A group of girls yelled, they stood a good distance from Holland, they held up a poster with her picture on it.

            _How did they get my photo?_ She thought with a start.

            “RAVEN! RAVEN! OVER HERE!” A camera man yelled to her left, she turned and was blinded by a flash of light.

            “Miss,” Officer Ford appeared beside her, “keep moving.” He took her arm and gently pushed her along the red carpet.

            Holland saw the other girls walking with their Officers, looking just as nervous as Holland felt. Veronica had her head down, her hands clasped together so tight that her knuckles were white. Camila was gripping her Officer’s forearm as if it were the only thing holding her to the ground.

            “VERONICA STEELE! OVER HERE!” A cameraman shouted ahead of them, his face covered by a large, black camera.

            “CAMLIA YOUNG! LOOK OVER HERE! GIVE US A SMILE!” Another shouted from Camila’s far left.

            “WE LOVE YOU VERONICA!” Two girls shouted, their faces bright with smiles.

            Holland tried to focus on her feet, tried to block out the shouts and rude commands for a photo. She didn’t realize the attention would come so quick; how did people handle this?

            They finally made it to the exit of the airport and out into the sunny Angeles day. Holland stumbled along the sidewalk, her eyes watering from the sudden light and earlier camera flashes. She blinked a few times till she could see better, and what she saw had her mouth popping open in awe.

            She had seen Angeles on TV—the bright blue sky; tall trees with large, vastly green leaves; the twinkling cityscape—but the screen didn’t do it justice.

            Before her was a bright-as-aqua sky, not a cloud in sight, and below stretched a view of glittering buildings. She could hear the echo of honks and cars racing down the streets. Sirens and various beeps from other vehicles—it was like a tangled, messy song.

            “Just wait till you get to the Palace,” Ford told her as he opened a door to a black cab, “you’ll be amazed.”

            Holland smiled and slipped into the cab; it was cooler than it was outside, the interior dark and made of leather. The windows were tinted—she could see out them but no one could see in.

            Veronica and Camila were seated across from her, both had their ankles crossed and held bottles of water. Holland looked to the side to see an array of drinks pilled in a bucket of ice. She picked one up and read the label, _Coke-a-Cola_ , she’d heard of the drink but had never tried it.

            Curious, she twisted the top off and took a small sip.

            She gasped as the drink popped against her tongue, making her nose tingle and her chest burn. A sweet, sugary taste followed and she swallowed it; a bubbly feeling filling her stomach.

            “W—” A small burp caught her off.

            She looked to the girls, who had been watching her quietly, their eyes were a little wide with interest. Until they let out a small giggle, their faces losing their curious looks.

            Holland let out a giggle too, the tension leaving her shoulders as they laughed over the burp like children.

            Then Camila picked up her own bottle of soda, opened it, and took a sip. Veronica followed suit. Camila swallowed a mouthful of soda and let out a belch, they all laughed hysterically.

            Veronica let out a baby sized hiccup but it was still hilarious.

            Holland didn’t know if they had all cracked under the pressure—and the competition hadn’t even started yet—but she was enjoying it. The nerves that had come over all of them minutes ago had fizzled. Now, they were actually enjoying themselves and their little burp contest.

            “Best not do that in front of the Prince.” Camila giggled, a faux English lit to her voice.

            “Least he throws us out before the contest even starts.” Veronica added, mimicking Camila’s tone. Her cheeks pink with laughter.

            Holland smiled, her chest burned with giggles and soda, “Maybe he likes girls who burp?”

            “Oh God, what if it’s a weird fetish?” Camila gasped, her eyes bright with humor.

            “Then it’s good we started practicing.”

            “Maybe that’s why he’s been single for so long,” Veronica pointed out, “couldn’t find anyone to satisfy his needs?”

            They all laughed, their voices bouncing around the car.

            Holland felt the cab come to a stop, she’d been so busy laughing that she hadn’t even noticed where the car had been taking them.

            The door beside her opened and Ford stood on the other side of it, “Lady Raven.” He held out his gloved hand for her to take.

            Holland put down her empty bottle and took the officer’s hand, stepping out of the car and feeling the air leave her lungs.

            In front of her stood the Palace, it was beautiful.

            It was wide and tall; marble stairs led up to two, wide oak doors; about a thousand windows dotted the place’s front; status of lions stood on either side of the stairway.

            Holland turned and saw a large fountain in the middle of the circular driveway; it was ivory and its base was decorated with carvings of flowers and vines. Water streamed down from the top of a statue; it was of a woman and she held a sea shell.

            She turned back around to the Palace; she never thought she’d see it in real life. Now she was. It almost felt like a dream.

            “Come along, girls.” Greggor said, clapping his hands to get their attention.

            “It’s so beautiful.” Camila breathed, her eyes taking in every inch of the place.

            Holland followed Greggor up the steps, wishing she could spend just a little more time taking in the exterior of the Palace.

            The doors opened when they made it to the top of the stairway; a guard with a bared and glasses allowed them inside.

            “Thank you, Officer.” Greggor bowed and led the girls through the doors.

            “Oh my . . . .” Veronica whispered as they stepped further into the entryway.

            The walls were red and had golden filigree designs etched on them; the floor was glossy and a deep brown and decorated with geometric shapes done in silver. On the walls hung paintings of royalty from earlier generations.

            “A quick note,” Greggor turned to face them, his eyes going from one girl to the next, “you will not be meeting the Prince today. Today is saved for making you look like the princess I know you are.” He flashed a kind smile, “I will lead you to the Women’s Room where you will be meeting your stylist. You will have this stylist for the duration of your stay here. They will be in charge of your hair, makeup, and clothing. So, don’t be nervous, they are here to help you.”

            He turned then and led them down the hall.

   
  
  


 

            When Holland entered the Women’s Room she was taken aback by how many people were in it.

            Girls swamped the place, all getting their makeup done or hair styled. Voices buzzed around the room; asking for a hair clip or lipstick shade. Holland saw one girl with tin foil in her hair and another with a plastic cap over her head.

            _What is that?_ She thought wearily as she passed a girl whose face was covered in a green paste.

            Camila and Veronica had been taken by their stylists—they had looked horrified to be leaving one another. But Greggor had assured them they’d be okay.

            Now, Holland stood with Greggor near an empty leather chair and mirror.

            “Your stylist should be here any second.” Greggor sighed, looking at his watch.

            Holland bit her cheek, maybe her stylist had dropped out last minute. Maybe Holland could just do her own hair and makeup—even though she knew nothing about it.

            “Ah, here he is.” Greggor said as a man walked up to them.

            Holland tried to not look bewildered at the man’s appearance; she _had_ never seen anyone like him before.

            He had wild black hair, tussled and ending above his chin; his brown eyes were lined with black and there was a hoop earring in his left ear. He wore leather pants; a red, silk shirt that had the top three buttons undone; a dark blue, velvet blazer, and black, low heeled ankle boots.

            “Raven Whitelace, this is Alex Bane, he is your stylist.” Greggor gestured to him with a small smile.

            “Hello, Raven.” Alex Bane smiled politely, showing off a set of pearly teeth. He held out a brown hand, fingers covered with rings.

            “H—Hi.” Holland said, her hand taking his.

            “So, shall we get started, then?” His smile grew and his eyes sparked.

            _Oh, God, help me._      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment/kudo! They make my day and I love talking to you :)


	8. PALACES AREN'T FOR EVERYONE

“Hair up or down?” A woman with pink lashes asked her blue-haired partner.

            “Mm, down looks too . . . laidback. But up is so . . . formal.” He answered as he picked up a lock of Holland’s hair.

            This had been going on for thirty minutes. After Alex Bane had introduced himself he had set Holland in a chair and had gone off to get his assistances.

            He’d came back with three people—a woman with pink eyelashes; a man with blue hair, and another woman who had a pierced eyebrow and winged liner.

            Holland had already forgotten their names as soon as they had said them.

            They had then started her ‘treatment’—as they liked to call it—and had given her a manicure and pedicure; waxed her legs, underarms, eyebrows, and, um, ‘bikini area.’ Holland would remember the pain for the rest of her life.

            After, they had used various lotions and oils on her skin and had used teeth-whitening polish to give her a ‘dazzling’ smile.

            It’d been odd to have people poking and prodding at her for so long, she had been told to sit still and ‘let the magic happen.’ Even so, Holland had started to get a little claustrophobic with everyone’s hands on her body. But she powered through, she needed to act like she was enjoying it. Even though she wanted to scream and sprint to the nearest exit.

            Now, the three assistance were trying to figure out what to do with her hair.

            “What about a braid?” The woman with the piercings suggested.

            The other two gave Holland a thoughtful look; Pink Lashes reached out a pearly-white hand and ran it through Holland’s hair.

            “I guess,” She shrugged her denim covered shoulders, “but I feel like that’ll be too . . . .”

            “Plain.” Blue Hair finished for her, his finger on his chin.

            Holland stifled a sigh, she wanted to tell them to leave her hair as is—it wasn’t like she was meeting the Prince _today_.

            “Straighten it.” Alex Bane said from behind Holland’s chair, she turned to see him holding a hair straightener in his left hand.

            The three assistance all gasped like he’d just told them the cure for an illness; Holland mentally rolled her eyes.

            “Perfect!” Pink Lashes said, a smile on her thin face.

            “Wonderful idea, Alex.” Blue Hair gushed.

            “Couldn’t have thought it better myself.” Piercing nodded, her hoop earrings shaking. 

            “How about you three go to the make-up station and get me a lipstick. In the shade, Aqua Dream.” He instructed as he walked over to the counter in front of Holland and plugged the hair tool in.

            “Aqua Dream, got it.” Pink Lashes said before darting away, the other two scurrying after her.

            Alex sighed, “It’ll take them a while to find it.” He fiddled with the straightener as he talked, fingers turning a knob and pressing a button.

            “Why?” Holland asked.

            He met her eyes then, a playful smirk on his pretty face, “Because it’s not real.”

 

 

            After an hour and a half, Holland’s hair was finally straightened, and it was . . . oddly memorizing.

            The hair was smooth and sleek; soft and pin straight. It was weird not seeing her natural curls for once, but also interesting.

            “Try not to touch it too much.” Alex murmured as he swept the floor around her chair, he had given her a small trim, just to keep her hair looking healthy.

            Holland dropped her hands from her head, “Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly, “It’s just so soft.”

            He chuckled lowly, “Yes, but it won’t be if your fingers keep combing through it.” He lifted up the pan of cut hair and dispensed it into the bin beside the counter.

            “So, am I done?” She asked.

            She had seen some girls leave the Women’s Room, all made-up and glowing with excitement. Only twelve or so girls were left now.

            “Yes. For now at least.” He came over to her and undid the cape that had been draped over her front, “Go meet the others in the corridor.”

            Holland got up from her chair and started walking toward the double doors that would lead out of the room.

            When she stepped into the space outside she saw a swarm of girls, all chatting and showing off their new hairstyles.

            Holland walked a few steps toward the edge of the crowd, sticking close to the wall. She didn’t know what they were waiting for but she figured she’d keep to herself.

            Her eyes flitted from one girl to the next, though; taking in her so called ‘competition.’

            “I can’t wait to meet the Prince!” One girl—Bella Jordan—gushed, her short cut, black bob swinging.

            “Do you think he’s as handsome in person?” Another asked, this girl had a short stature and big, wide eyes. Holland tried to remember her name; Fionna Ross, she guessed.

            Voices flew all around her and she caught snippets of conversations, some talking of meeting the Prince and others fretting over what was going to happen next.

            “Raven.” A voice rose above the rest. Holland turned to her left and saw Camila and Veronica walking toward her.

            “There you are,” Veronica sighed as they stopped beside her, “we couldn’t find you for a second. So many people.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

            Veronica’s auburn locks were in soft curls, stopping above her shoulders. Wavy bangs rested on the left side of her forehead.

            “I love your hair.” Holland smiled, lightly touching one of the curls, it was smooth and silky.

            “Thanks.” Veronica chuckled, “I was a little hesitant about them cutting it but I actually love it.”

            “They wanted to cut mine too, but I said ‘no,’ real quick.” Camila said giving a firm shake of her head, “My long hair is my most important feature.”

            The other two girls laughed as Camila flipped her pin-straight, black hair; it fell in a glossy sheet over her shoulders.

            “Well you look lovely.” Holland added.

            “Thank you.” Camila gave a haughty smirk, “So do you.”

            Just then the chatting came to a halt when the doors to the Women’s Room opened and a woman stepped out. Holland turned to see the woman stand behind the closed doors and smile at the crowd.

            “Hello ladies!” She greeted with a wide grin, her teeth bright and blinding.

            The woman wore a pastel green dress that stopped below her knees; nude heels, and a blazar in the same color as the dress. Her short cut blonde hair was slicked back.

            “It’s so wonderful to see all of you here today.” She continued, “And you all look so lovely.”

            “When do we get to meet the Prince?” A girl in the back shouted, her voice eager.

            The woman gave a breezy laugh, “Oh, you’ll meet him soon, my dear. But as of now I’d like you all to follow me into the Dining Hall. You will be served dinner and given a quick rundown of your day tomorrow. After dinner you will be shown your rooms and introduced to your maids.” She walked passed the girls and stopped at a curve in the corridor, “My name is Iris and I’ll be here to help you along the way.”

            The group followed Iris down the hall and into an entryway that had two more double doors. Iris opened them and led the girls into the Dining Hall.

            “You may sit anywhere you’d like for tonight, but in the morning you will have assigned seats.” Iris explained as she gestured for the girls to pick a place at the table.

            Holland sat beside Veronica and Camila.

            Iris clapped her hands and another set of doors that were on the opposite side of the room flew open. Waiters came bustling out, holding large trays with wide, white plates on them.

            “Enjoy your meal ladies.” Iris thrilled as she took a seat a few inches from the head of the table.

            Holland tried to hold in her gasp when she saw her meal; it looked like something out of an art piece. It _looked_ like an art piece.

            Grilled chicken on a bed of yellow rice that had peas, carrots, and onions sprinkled in it. An orange sauce was drizzled over the chicken and trailed along the edge of the plate.

            A small side salad appeared next to the plate and a basket of rolls was sat in the middle of the table.

            “Wine, Miss?” A waiter with a heavy accent asked, he stood beside her chair.

            “Uh . . . .” She trailed off, her eyes on the slim bottle he held.

            Holland wasn’t much of a drinker, aside from the times she and Tanisha used to sneak sips of wine at dinners, but other than that she rarely drank. Mostly because it was illegal, the drinking age was 21 and if you were caught you had to pay a fine and go to a seminar.

            “Miss?” The waiter asked again, he looked a bit impatient.

            “Yes, please.” Holland answered, holding out her empty glass that had been sitting beside her plate.

            The waiter poured a rich, dark red liquid into the glass. The scent wafted into her nose and it reminded her of ripe grapes.

            Holland took a small sip, a tarty, fruity taste filled her mouth.

            It was actually good.

            Everyone had ate and talked quietly to one another; Holland learned that Camila was a Gardener, her whole family worked for a household of Twos.

            “I really enjoy it, to be honest.” Camila said as she wiped her mouth, “I know many people would think being a Seven is a nightmare, but it’s not. For me, at least.”

            “Who do you work for?” Veronica asked, forking rice into her mouth.

            “Conrad Wilson and his wife, Abigale. They’ve very nice, good pay, sometimes they invite us over when we aren’t working and we swim in their pool.” She smiled.

            _Twos who are actually nice. Who would’ve thought?_

            “That’s so generous.” Holland agreed.

            Camila nodded just as Veronica said, “My employer isn’t that kind.”

            “What do you do?”

            “I’m an outdoor maintenance worker. Anything that needs taking care of outside—lawn mown; hedges clipped; house painted—I’m your gal.” She rolled her eyes, “I work for a Three and he is just the _worst_. Barley pays me enough to get by; always rude; never lets me make a suggestion about the décor or anything.” She slumped in her seat, “Ugh, I’ve never met a grumpier person in my life.”

            “Well at least you’re away from him.” Camila put a hand on her shoulder, “Now he’s going to have to tend to his own lawn.”

            Veronica smiled crookedly, “Let’s hope he learns something from it.”  

            “Everyone!” Iris stood from her chair, wine glass in hand, “If I could have your attention for just a moment.

            “Tomorrow you will be expected to be up and ready by ten A.M sharp. From there you will have brunch and after you will get to meet Prince Nikolas.”

            A few girls squealed with delight, their faces aglow with joy and anticipation.

            “Don’t be nervous, though. All you will be doing is talking with him, getting to know him and all that. Fairly easy. Just be gracious and patient.

            “Now, I’ll lead you to your bedrooms and your maids will get you ready for bed.”

 

 

            Holland’s bedroom was located on the second floor—like all the other bedrooms for the Selected—and it was near the end of the hallway. Her neighbors were Bella Jordan; Noni Huvaki, a Four from Calgary; and Yvonne Porter, a Two from Atlin.

            When Holland entered her room she was taken aback—again—by it; the room was bigger than her house. It had a wide window that looked out toward the vast forest behind the Palace. A wide, beige desk was in front of the window; its chair was white and looked more like a mini throne than a desk chair.

            The walls were covered in golden paper that had swirls of white drawn across it. Small lights were fastened into it; their shades looked like petals and bulbs glowed within them. The carpeted floor was a cream color and looked like it’d just been cleaned.

            The room was gorgeous.

            “Hello, Lady Raven.” A voice had Holland looking toward the middle of the room.

            Three girls stood in a line, polite smiles on their faces. Hands were folded in front of them and they stood straight, like soliders.

            They wore matching uniforms; light purple knee length dresses with quarter-inch sleeves; a white apron was tied around their waists and had two pockets. Their hair was tied into buns on the top of their heads and they had on black shoes with buckles.

            “Oh, uh, hi.” Holland stuttered, she hadn’t realized they’d been standing there.

            “You must be my maids?” It felt weird to say such a thing. She was a Rebel, she didn’t have maids.

            The girl smiled, “Yes, Miss. I am Abby. And this is Lily,” She gestured to a pale girl with blonde hair.

            “And this is Grace.” A girl with a round, russet colored face smiled and curtsied.

            “Anything you need, Miss, just let us know. We are here to serve you.” Abby smiled brightly, her hazel eyes glued to Holland’s face.

            Holland bit the inside of her cheek, feeling a bit uncomfortable, “Um, thanks. I’ll remember that.”

            “Shall we get you ready for bed?” Lily spoke up, her voice soft.

            _Get me ready for bed?_

            “Uh . . . . That’s okay—” But she got cut off by Abbey.

            “Yes, lets.” She walked over and took Holland’s hand, “Come along, Miss.”

            Holland felt her stomach turn, was this really happening?

 

           

Fifteen minutes later Holland was ready for bed.

            _Ready for bed, as if it’s a royal event!_

            Her maids had washed her face for her; rubbed lotion and some oils into her skin; brushed her hair; and helped her into a silky, pink nightgown.

            They had then led Holland to the big, white bed and helped her into it. They had tucked her in as if she were five years old and wished her goodnight.

            Now, Holland lay in the too soft bed and was struggling out of the tightly tucked covers.

            Once out of them, she flicked on the light beside her bed and got to her feet. She needed out of this nightgown. It was too slippery, too short.

            Everything was too . . . too _comfortable_!

            She was used to sleeping on a ratty cot and wearing a worn-out sleepshirt. She couldn’t sleep in a bed with a mattress that resembled a marshmallow. Or wear a nightgown that was more slippery than butter.

            Holland went over to her backpack, it sat at the foot of a small, coral, loveseat. She picked it up, zipped it open and riffled through it.

            With a sigh of relief she found her sleepshirt and quickly discarded the pink monstrosity.

            _Better._

            Holland smiled as the soft, cotton shirt brushed against her skin.

            Walking over to the bed she ripped the covers off it and laid the duvet on the floor. Taking her pillow and sheet, Holland turned off the light and laid out on the duvet.

            _Not my bed, but it’ll do._

            Burying her face in her pillow Holland let out a sigh and closed her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holland is at the palace! Whoo! Let's see how she handles being pampered and waited on. If you enjoyed this chapter please leave a comment/kudos! I love seeing your thoughts :)


	9. MEETING HIS HIGHNESS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Holland's Outfit](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=225743401)

            “Miss.” A voice shook Holland awake.

            She moaned and buried her face into the crook of her arm, “Go away.”

            “Miss, you must get up.” The voice said, a hand was on her shoulder, shaking it lightly.

            “No, go away.” She meekly lifted her arm to swat the person away, letting it fall to the side with a lazy _thump_.

            “Lady Raven, you’ll be late for brunch.”

            With a groan Holland opened her eyes and rolled over, “What?” She peered through blurry eyes at the person.

            “You need to get up, Miss. Alex Bane will be here in five minutes to dress you.”

            _Oh!_

            The events of yesterday came crashing into her and Holland blinked away the sleep from her eyes.

            She was meeting the Prince today. She had to make him like her. She had a Mission to do.

            “R—Right. Sorry.” Holland sat up and got to her feet, her back a little stiff from lying on the floor.

            “No need to apologize, Miss.” Abbey said with a small smile, “Lily has run your bath for you. Go meet her and I’ll make your bed.” She picked up the pillow and sheet.

            “Thanks.” Holland murmured.

She saw Abbey give the covers and pillow an odd look before shrugging and setting them on the bed.

In the bathroom Holland was stripped out of her sleepshirt (which Lily looked at in confusion) and put into the bath.

The water was warm and smelled of roses and peaches; bubbles lapped against Holland’s chest.

It was very nice; much better than her usual cold showers.

Which made her think about what she’d be doing if she was back home. She’d probably already be at Drills; doing push-ups and running laps. Listening to Zelena scream at them to move faster, harder.

            If Zelena could see her now; covered in bubbles and resting in pink dyed water while her maids scrubbed her back.

            _She’d have a meltdown._

            The thought made Holland smirk.

            After her bath, Holland was dried down and put in a white, fluffy bathrobe; her naturally curly hair tied in a bun.

            “Hello? Everyone decent?” Alex Bane asked from behind the door of her bedroom.

            From the bed Holland watched Grace go to the door and open it.

            Today Alex wore a leather jacket; a floral shirt; dark-washed denim jeans, and combat boots. His hair was down and feathery, his eyes lined with black.

            His assistance followed him into the room, each holding a long, thick, silver case.

            “Alright, let’s get started.” Alex announced, going over to Holland and taking her hands to lead her toward the bathroom.

            Holland was seated in a chair in front of the mirror, the cases set on top of the counter.

            “How are you this morning, love?” Alex asked as he picked through the cases, taking out lipsticks and eyeshadows.

            “Okay, I guess.” Holland answered, Pink Lashes was taking her hair out of the bun. Damp curls fell along her shoulders.

            “Nervous about meeting Prince Nikolas?”

            _No._ But Raven should be.

            “A little.” She lied, biting her lip, “I just don’t want to mess something up.”

            Alex chuckled, “You won’t. Just be yourself.” He motioned for Blue Hair to leave the room.

            “That’s pretty old advice, don’t you think?” Holland asked dryly.

            He met her eyes in the mirror, “Old advice is good advice, don’t you think?”

            “Depends.”

            Alex hummed and looked down at the make-up in his hands, “Peach or Roasted Almond eyeshadow today?”

 

 

            “Oh, Raven, you look lovely!” Iris gushed as Holland came toward the Dining Hall.

            “Thank you.” Holland smiled through the pain pulsing in her feet.

            Alex had put her in high heels; they were nude and made her wobble when she stood still.

            “Enjoy your brunch.” Iris gestured for Holland to go through the doors.

            Iris had been right about the assigned seating; when Holland approached the table she saw white name cards on it.

            It had taken her a while but she’d finally found her new seat, she was behind the wide, bay window on the right side of the room. She was also seven chairs down from where the Royal Family sat.

            Taking a seat, Holland read the name tags next to her. Sadly, she wasn’t sitting beside Veronica or Camila. Instead she was in the middle of Yvonne Porter and Cebrina Jones, a Four from Tammins.

            Both girls hadn’t showed up yet, so Holland started filling her plate with the food that was laid out in front of her.

            She chose French toast; bacon; a small bowl of pineapple, and a glass of water. Each bit of food was as great as the last, she wanted to moan with each passing taste.

            Holland was just grabbing a second piece of French toast when a nasal sounding voice had her pausing.

            “Careful, sweetie, another one of those and you’ll pop out of your dress.” There was a smirk to the voice.

            Setting the food on her plate, Holland looked up.

            The girl was tall, maybe 5’8” and she had a haughty air about her. Her hair was a dark chocolate brown, and it tumbled down her back in smooth, glossy curls. Her wide, brown eyes stared at Holland, and her pink, pouty lips were lifted in a sneer.

            “I’m just being helpful.” The girl shrugged lightly as she took a seat beside Holland.

            The girl was Yvonne Porter. A Two.

            Holland swallowed the bite of food she’d had in her mouth, “Thank you, but I’m not worried.” Her voice was cool, polite almost.

            “Good to know.” Yvonne simpered and moved to grab a bowl of fruit.

 

 

            After brunch Holland and the rest of the girls were led to the Women’s Room and told to wait for their name to be called. They’d be meeting the Prince and each of them had five minutes to speak with him.

            _Five minutes, I can do that._ Holland thought to herself as she sat beside Camila and Veronica.

            She wasn’t nervous but she knew she had to act like she was. She didn’t want to seem like the odd one out here.

            “Five minutes?” Holland worried, looking to Camila, “Is that even enough time to get to know someone?”

            “I guess so.” Camila shrugged, she played with the end of her braid, “I mean, it’s just the first meeting, there should be more after.”

            “But . . . but what if I don’t make it past this?”

            Camila reached out a hand and took Holland’s—she felt a little bad about faking her fears. Camila was being nice to her.

            “You’ll make it.” Camila assured with a smile.

            “Just don’t burp in front of him.” Veronica said with a snicker.

            Holland giggled, for real, “Oh, I’ll be sure to save that for the first date.”

            The three of them laughed softly and smiled at one another.

 

 

            Holland didn’t know how long she had been waiting but she soon found herself being called to leave the room.

            She gave Camila and Veronica a nervous smile—they had already gone to their meeting—and strode over to Iris.

            “Alright, dear, just be yourself and don’t be nervous.” Iris carefully smoothed Holland’s floral dress.

            “Okay.” Holland answered, her voice shy.

            She followed Iris out of the room and toward a small set up in the front of the entryway.

            Holland felt her stomach drop—for real.

            There were two chairs set up, they were a mint green and looked comfortable. Tall lights with large, circular bulbs were planted a few feet away from the chairs. A camera was in front of the chairs and a man was sat beside it.

            Holland stopped, “Th—there’s a camera.”

            “Oh, yes, Raven. This is going to be filmed for the public.” Iris said, “Don’t be nervous, just act like it isn’t there.”

            She guided Holland toward the seat on the right and told her to sit and wait for Nikolas.

            _Just breathe,_ Holland told herself, _it’s just a camera. A camera that’s broadcasting to the entire world!_

            She closed her eyes and tried to relax, tried to act like the camera wasn’t even there. She had to focus, she was on a Mission, and she couldn’t let her nerves get the better of her.

            She couldn’t let her Dad or anyone else down.

            _Dad. Jordi. I haven’t even contacted them._

            The thought had her feeling guilty, she needed to call them or write them soon.

            “Your Highness.” Iris’s voice had Holland looking up.

            The nerves vanished then, a low, simmering anger took their place.

            Prince Nikolas greeted Iris with a hug and kiss on the cheek; his smile bright and charming.

            He was dressed in a dark blue suite with a lighter blue tie; his shoes were black and shiny, and his hair was combed neatly.

            “Your Highness, this is Lady Raven.” Iris had brought the Prince over to the small area.

            Holland stood up and met the Prince’s dark brown eyes.

            She had to admit that the Prince _was_ handsome. But that didn’t mean she was going to start drooling over him.

            “Hello, Lady Raven.” Prince Nikolas smiled at her.

            Instead of frowning like she wanted to Holland smiled slowly, “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Your Highness.” She curtsied.

            “Likewise.” He nodded.

            “Okay, so the two of you just sit right here and we’ll tell you when to start.” Iris instructed with a somewhat giddy smile.

            Holland mentally rolled her eyes and went back to her seat. She made sure to sit straight and cross her ankles while her hands rested in her lap. Tanisha had told her that that was the way Princesses sat.

            “Okay, three . . . two . . . one . . . go.” The cameraman said.

            Holland tried not to focus on the red light of the camera, she made herself look at the Prince.

            “So, Lady Raven, where are you from?” Prince Nikolas asked, his eyes not even looking to the camera.

            “Don’t you already know that?” Holland slipped out, her mouth beating her brain.

            The Prince chuckled, “Yes, but I’d like to know more about Sumner. Have you always grown up there?”

            “Yes.” She answered, making sure she sounded sweet and shy, “My parents moved there from Kent before I was born.”

            “Mmm, and what do you like about Sumner?” He asked, clasping his hands together.

            “The people.”

            He nodded, “Good. I’ve never been to Sumner but I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

            _Of course you haven’t._

            “You’ll have to visit. I’m sure everyone would love to have you there.” She grinned.

            The Prince smiled, “I’ll remember that. What about your family? What are they like?”

            Holland shifted in her seat, her fingers threaded together, “Well, it’s quite small, actually. I only have my father and my little brother.”

            “No mother?”

            “No. She died when I was younger. I never even knew her.”

            She could feel that simmering of anger rise up in her stomach; she clenched her jaw and took a deep breath.

            She couldn’t break character.

            “I’m so sorry, Raven.” Prince Nikolas said.

            And he did _look_ sorry. His eyes were lowered and there was a slight frown to his lips.

            “May I ask how she died?” He looked up at her then, his expression open.

            “She was murdered.” Holland said woodenly, “Unfairly so.”

            _Your family were the ones that did it._

“That’s horrible.” He reached out then and took her hand.

            His skin was warm and smooth, a bit callused. His fingers rubbed across her knuckles.

            “Thank you.” Holland murmured, her voice a bit choked.

            Silence passed between them, Holland kept her eyes on their hands.

            “What’s your brother like?” Prince Nikolas asked then, his voice soft as he slipped his hand way from hers.

            Holland looked up at him, “My brother?”

            “Yes.” He smiled, his face lighting up from the inside out.

            _Handsome bastard._

“He’s . . . . Wonderful.” Holland answered, “Smart, kind, funny. A bit shy at first but once you get to know him he’s so . . . infectious. He laughs, you laugh, kind of thing.”

            She couldn’t help but smile as she talked of Jordi. It’d hadn’t even been a full 24 hours and she missed him.

            Prince Nikolas nodded, “Wish I could say the same for my brother.” He joked.

            Prince Nikolas’s brother—Anthony Valentino—was a year younger than him and tended to stay out of the spotlight that followed the family. He didn’t go on any reports or accompany Nikolas and their father on business trips to other countries. Anthony Valentino tended to stay out of the limelight; only making appearances at charity galas or holiday balls.

            Anthony hid in the shadows of his world, much like Holland did.

            Holland chuckled, “I’m sure your brother’s lovely.”

            “You say that now but wait till you meet him.” Prince Nikolas said.

            “And . . . cut!” The cameraman said.

            Holland looked over at him and Iris, who was giving her a big grin and a thumbs up.

            “Are we done?” Holland asked, she’d forgotten that the camera had even been there.

            “Yes.” Iris walked over to her, “You both did great.”

            “It was a pleasure getting to know you, Lady Raven.” Prince Nikolas rose from his seat.

            Holland stood too, “You too, Your Highness.”

            Prince Nikolas took her hand and kissed along her knuckles, “Hope to see you again, this time without any cameras.” He let her hand go.

            Holland nodded and let Iris take her back to the Women’s Room; her hand tingling all the while.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! We finally got to meet Nikolas and learn that he has a brother ;) Who we'll be meeting soon too! If you liked this chapter please leave a comment/kudos, i love hearing from you guys and your support is a great motivator! xx


	10. MESSAGES

It was later in the day, mid-afternoon, and Holland sat in the Women’s Room with a pad of stationary and a pen. She was going to write home and tell them of her progress so far. Though, nothing too detailed, she’d save that for the phone Tobi had given her. Besides, she didn’t even have anything to go on.

            She clicked the pen and started writing.

 

 

      _Dear Dad and Jordi,_

_Sorry I haven’t written yet, we got to the Palace late and after dinner I went straight to bed._

_But I’ll be sure to write you guys a lot during my time here. Hopefully it’ll be a long one._

_How are things at home? Is the restaurant good? How’s the staff? Any new recipes made?_

_How’s reading group, Jordi? Do you like your sub? I miss hearing you read to me._

_Nothing much has been going on here. Though the food is to die for! French toast and bacon; chicken with yellow rice! And for dessert: chocolate peanut-butter pie! Jordi you’d be in haven if you saw it!_

_I’ll have to send you some._

_I met the Prince today; I’ll let you be the judge of that when it broadcasts tonight._

_God, tonight! I’m still not used to being on camera. It’s nerve-wracking. I don’t know how people do it._

_I miss you guys so much. Write me soon._

_Love,_

_Raven_

 

 

            Holland folded the letter and put it in an envelope, she scribbled the address to the house on the back.

            Picking up another sheet of paper she wrote to Tanisha.

 

 

  _Dear Tanisha,_

_I miss you so much! I kind of wish you were here right now!_

_The other girls are great—--I’ve met two who are very sweet; Veronica Steele and Camila Young—--but even so, they aren’t you._

_How’s waitressing going? Is it long and grueling? Kind of glad I’m not there—--ha-ha!_

_Anyway, I met the Prince today, you’ll be able to see me and all my humiliation tonight on TV. Joy!_

_Maybe you should’ve entered, you’d be so much better at it than me. You’re funny, charming, and flirty, you’d win everyone over._

_You’d win this thing hands down._

_Alas that didn’t happen._

_I’ll be sure to keep you updated on all things Selection._

_Love you._

_Raven_

 

 

            Holland sealed the envelope and wrote Tanisha’s name on the back.

            She stood and walked over to the bin were the girls could put their mail.

            Going back to her seat, Holland noticed Yvonne and Bella whispering to one another. They sat on another couch on the other side of the room; their heads together.

            Yvonne said something and Bella snorted with laughter; Bella smiled and her eyes went to Amberley Hall. The girl sat on a lavender loveseat, quietly reading a book.

            Yvonne looked at Amberley too and both she and Bella giggled.

            _What are they so giddy about?_

Getting up from her chair, Holland walked over to the bookshelf that was a few paces away from where the girls sat.

            With her back to them Holland pretend to look for a book and eavesdrop. She knew it was wrong but the way they were laughing at Amberley made Holland annoyed.

            “Did you hear that her stylist had to redo all of her designs?” Bella whispered with a catty tone.

            Yvonne snorted, “Yes! Apparently they messed up the measurements—they made them _smaller_ instead of _bigger_!”

            “Did you see her at breakfast? Talk about a pig!”

            “Right! Like, excuse me, darling, those pancakes are for _everyone_.”

            They snickered loudly.

            Holland clenched her jaw, why had she come over here if they were just going to piss her off?

            “You do know why she’s here, right?” Bella asked.

            “No, why?”

            “Because they needed to make this fair. If they just picked pretty girls people would get suspicious.”

            “Hmm, yeah, I can see that. But she won’t last long. She’ll be out of here by dinner.” Yvonne said concededly.

            “Like Nikolas would even go for her.” Bella scoffed, “Round and gross isn’t his type.”

            Yvonne laughed.

            Holland couldn’t take it, she turned around and walked over to the two girls, “What is your problem?” She snapped.

            The girls gave her confused looks.

            “What are you talking about?” Bella drawled, looking board.

            “You know what I’m talking about. You’re making fun of Amberley.” Holland narrowed her eyes.

            “Oh, are we? I thought we were just making accurate statements.” Yvonne said sarcastically.

            Holland rolled her eyes, “Just stop bullying her or you’ll regret it.” Her voice was smooth as steel.

            “Really? And what are you going to do about it, _Four_.” Bella said Holland’s fake Caste like an insult.

            “Yeah, are you going to serve us a lesson on kindness?” Yvonne tittered.

            “Or make us bake ‘I’m sorry’ brownies and give them to her?”

            The girls laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

            Holland sighed, so much for her threat, “Just leave Amberley alone.”

            She turned around and walked back to her seat, hearing the girls’ giggles all the while.

 

 

            When her maids left her after settling Holland into bed, she slipped out of the covers and went over to her backpack.

            Digging through it she found the phone that Tobi had given her the day she left Sumner.

            It was a black, thin phone, no keyboard and had a camera on the back.

            Holland knew a little about mobile telephones, only Twos and Ones had them. Sometimes Threes, and the lucky Fours. They used to be poplar long ago but they ran out of style; people had gone back to writing letters or using a landline phone.

            Even so, if you had a mobile phone, you were seen as rich and important.

            _Or you stole one, like Tobi did._ Holland thought as she turned on the phone.

            The screen showed a background of a Raven (Holland rolled her eyes at that,) and small icons were dotted around it.

            Holland pressed the message one and was taken to a screen that had zero messages in the inbox.

            She clicked out of that and went to the contact icon. There was only one number and she was sure it led back to a similar mobile phone at Base.

            She didn’t want to get caught being heard—it was still early for everyone in the Palace to be asleep—so she sent a message.

 

      **Tobi. It’s me, are you there? –H.**

 

          Holland waited with baited breath for Tobi to answer. She hoped she had gotten the right number. Then again, Tobi was smart, he wouldn’t mess a simple phone number up.

            The phone made a _ping_ and Holland opened the message.

 

            **Yes! It’s me, Holly. What took you so long to reach out? –T.**

 

**I didn’t have time to, I got to the Palace late and then had to meet the Prince and act like I wanted to be here. –H.**

 

**You met the Prince? Already? Did you get anything good? –T.**

**No. Not yet at least. I was on camera and we had to have a stupid meet and greet. All I got was that he’s never been to Sumner—or any Province I’m guessing—and he talked about his brother, Anthony. –H.**

**Anthony? I forgot about him. –T.**

**Yeah, he’s not one for public events, I suppose. Couldn’t blame him, those cameras are awful! Also, he’s second in line for the throne—something he’s never going to get anyway—why bother showing your face when there’s no need? –H.**

**True. Anything else from Prince Nikolas? –T.**

**No. But I’ll try tomorrow. –H.**

**Good. Ask him about what he plans to do for his reign and then get back to us. –T.**

 

**Will do. –H.**

**Great. Good luck, Holland. We’re counting on you. –T.**

**Thanks. –H.**

 

 

 

With a sigh Holland turned off the phone and went over to her bed.

Grabbing the covers and pulling them to the floor, she hoped that Tobi was right to wish her luck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos, i love hearing from you and your feedback is appreciated! :) xxx

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and thank you for checking out my first Selection fanfic! I hope you enjoyed it and will stick with me as this story unfolds! Thank you so much for reading and please leave a kudos and comment below! 
> 
> xx


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